


An Academic Offensive

by SHARKMARTINI



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Confused Simon, Emotional Conversations, Enemies to Lovers, Fake Relationship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Sharing a Bed, SnowBaz, Uni AU, Watford Student Code of Behaviour, Watford as a uni, lots of drinking- drink responsibly kids!, no tears no fears, pining Baz, stakeouts that become dates, teaching assistant AU, this is a happy story y'all, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI
Summary: In which Simon and Baz share a room at the top of a tower, hate each other's guts, and reluctantly form a truce.





	An Academic Offensive

**Author's Note:**

> I've mentioned that I'm obsessed with uni AUs right? IDK what they’re called over there, but here we know them as TAs- teaching assistants. Also I’ve hurt some of you before but this is a happy story, happy ending y’all.

I’m enjoying the morning sun on my face. I keep shuffling the stack of assignments in front of me, but I’m not making much progress. It’s too easy to get distracted by what is looking like a beautiful day outside. I watch through the window as someone tries braving the wet mess of the quad. It’s always tempting to cut across the field to get to the buildings beyond instead of taking the long way around, but as a fourth year I’ve had lots of time to learn better.

I laugh to myself when I see him stop and use his hands to try and tug his welly from the sucking mud. I laugh again when he pulls his foot clean out from where the welly is still stuck. He windmills for a second and then-

The bang of the front door makes me jump and I watch as my office mate edges his way into the room. He barely looks at me before he’s frowning, clearly already pissed off. We glare at each other as he makes his way to his desk, blocking my view of the action below.

“Budge up, some bugger’s caught in the quad.” I want to see if he stays on his feet. I sure didn’t, and I feel a weird validation every time I watch the quad claim another victim.

“Oh, is that so?” He flicks the blinds closed so quickly it takes me a second to understand what’s going on. 

I howl.

“Baz, come on! It’s the first time the sun has been out all week!”

“The school doesn’t pay you to sit on your arse and look out the window. Get to work Snow.” He doesn’t even bother looking at me as he opens his satchel and pulls out tidy stacks of paperwork, already graded and flagged.

“I don’t know why you bother coming here to harass me. You’re already done all your grading by the looks of it.” I fiddle with the top of my pen in annoyance. All I wanted was some fucking peace. I curse my terrible luck once more for the eternal hell that is sharing an office with my worst enemy. 

“There’s always more than can be done. If this is anything like your attitude towards your research, I’m not surprised you can’t find any journal willing to publish you.” I hiss in anger as he turns away from our conversation and pulls out his laptop. It’s a sore spot that his undergraduate thesis has been accepted for publication in The Economic Journal. I know this because he framed the acceptance letter and has it facing me from its spot on his desk. Wanker can’t even see it with it turned around to face me. 

I sigh and try to count backwards from twenty. It doesn’t work. I open my desk drawer and pull out my Eno. I take two and check my watch. He hasn’t even been here five minutes yet. I let my head fall to my desk and let out a deep sigh.

There are seven undergraduate TAs at the university. TA positions are in high demand at Watford and I should be grateful that I managed to snag one of the two undergraduate spots offered by the astronomy department. And I am, I honestly am.

I was grateful even when I heard there were only six private offices left unclaimed on campus.

I was grateful even when I walked into my office and saw someone else’s bag sitting on the desk right in front of the window.

And I’m trying to be grateful even now, listening to Baz type away at his computer like his day isn’t ruined simply by my presence.

I don’t know anything about economics. Nothing at all. At first, I didn’t understand why we were assigned to share an office together. Now, I know it’s because the faculty assumed one of us would kill the other and that the survivor would then have the office all to themselves.

It’s perverse. I get along with almost everyone I’ve met at uni. I’m a likeable guy. 

But not Baz. He’s known on campus for being arrogant and unpleasant. He has a few friends, but most people live in a kind of hateful awe of him. Hateful in the sense that they know how awful he is, awe in the sense that they live in hope that they’ll be the one to finally get to him. 

In second year Baz turned down the prettiest girl in school. Viciously, too. I remember because she’s my ex-girlfriend. She told me we weren’t working, and next thing I know she was walking up to Baz and asking him out. He’d already been a douche to me whenever we ran into each other, which seemed to be always. At first, I thought we must be living in the same dorm or something for all we ran into each other, but he lived in a completely different college.

I remember watching as he turned her down, right in the middle of the quad. It wouldn’t have been a thing except for how rude he was. How he didn’t even bother looking at her while he did it, instead staring across the quad at me the whole time.

So yeah, hating him became something personal. And now we share an office.

“Can you open the window?” It’s unbearably stuffy in here. Our office is so small it would take me no time at all to walk across and open the window, but he’s sitting right there. And I know through experience how pissy he’ll get if I cross over the invisible line that divides his half of the office from mine. 

Two desks, two desk chairs, a little sofa we’ve never touched, a mini fridge filled with my food, and a little wooden chair we reserve for our students. It’s a good thing neither of us are claustrophobic.

“No Snow, it’s cold out.”

“I feel like I’m suffocating.” I put my head between my hands and try taking deep breaths. 

“Good, maybe then I can work without your constant whinging.” He finally looks up and frowns. I bare my teeth at him. “Why don’t you go for a walk or something?” I must be imagining the faint sound of concern in his voice. 

“So you can do me in once and for all and push me down the stairs again? Unlikely.” His frown deepens.

“It’s against the Watford Student Code of Behaviour to physically harm other students,” he recites, going back to his typing. The light from his screen is making little rectangles across the lenses of his black glasses. I wish he wouldn’t wear them. They give him a kind of intellectual vibe I’ve always found disconcerting. 

“Take your glasses off, I hate them.” The words slip out before I can censor them.

“I need these to see, Snow.” He doesn’t even look at me when I’m talking to him. So fucking rude. 

“That’s a lie, you only wear them here.”

“They’re reading glasses, I read here.” He sounds exasperated and I smile at the tension in his voice. It’s so rare that I wind Baz up this early in the day. I count it as a success.

“They’re stupid, everyone thinks you only wear them because you think they’ll help you pull the birds. There’s no one else here, you can stop it.” I smile in victory as he pulls them off and rubs his face with his hands.

“Crowley, Snow.” He sighs, long and suffering.

The room doesn’t feel so stuffy anymore, I think to myself, pleased as punch as I get up to see what I’ve got in the mini fridge. 

\-----

It’s a bleary Tuesday morning as I sit at my desk and poke half-heartedly at a breakfast sandwich. I’m already over this week. I have a bunch of papers to hand in, and two meetings with The Mage about my thesis work. My supervisor’s name is actually Davy, but I’ve never heard anyone call him that. I don’t know where the moniker comes from, but Penny swears she heard it has something to do with the fact that he dresses like Peter Pan. I’ve never read the book, but I’m about 80% sure there’s no Mage-like character in it, so this only confuses me. It’s impossible to think of him as anything else though.

I’m trying to decide whether I’m in the mood to stretch my legs and fetch a cuppa from the cafeteria downstairs, or if I’ll try to wrangle the kettle sitting on the fridge into submission when the door slams open. I jump in my seat and watch as Baz practically runs into the room.

He's pissed. 

I flinch as he throws something at me, but it lands on the desk in front of me instead. It's the uni newspaper, which until now I honestly wasn't sure anyone actually read. It's opened to a page near the back and I see-

"Aww thanks. Congrats to you too." I smile at him, seeing our own names listed under the short list heading for the undergraduate TA award.

Baz picks up the paper faster than I've ever seen him do anything and whacks me in the head with it. Twice.

“Ow fuck, stop!” I try slapping the paper out of his hands but he’s too fast.

"I'm not congratulating you, you moron!" He hisses, "Are you seeing this fuckery?"

"My nomination?" I asked bemusedly, rubbing my temple. 

"It's true that that is undeserved and incredibly sad, but I meant the other nominees."

I look. And finally I understand.

"Oh." My heart falls a little.

"Right?" He hisses, pushing the paper towards me again. I swat it away.

“Stop, I already read it.”

Rachel. I actually like her, she’s the other undergraduate TA from the astronomy department. I never see her though because her office is all the way on the other side of campus. And we never invigilate midterms or exams together. I get the dubious honour of sharing that responsibility with Baz for some unfathomable reason.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but isn’t this some kind of-” I trail off.

“Nepotism? Favouritism? Bias? Take your pick.” He sounds disgusted as he throws himself into his seat. He pouts and puts his hair up. Then takes it down again. Then he stares at me so full of anger that I’m suddenly sure he’s about to blame me for this whole mess.

I put my hands up to show him I don’t want to fight.

“She didn’t have to be nominated by her supervisor. It could have been anyone.” He laughs humourlessly. 

“Sure, anyone in your department could have nominated her. But they only did so because she’s sleeping with the interim assistant dean.” Baz wrings his hands. “I always said it was a conflict of interest for administration positions to be held by members of the faculty, but no one ever listens. Now her supervisor is second in command and people can’t wait to suck up to him.”

I don’t really care either way, so I shrug.

“I mean- it’s not like this really matters-” I trail off at the look he gives me. I can physically feel my insides shrivel as he sneers at me. Our office really is too small for this amount of animosity.

“It does matter. The undergraduate TA award is a solid point in the applicant’s favour in the eyes of the graduate school admissions department. It looks amazing on a resume. Not to mention that it carries a five thousand quid honourarium.” He manages to sound completely condescending while also retaining his signature annoyance. 

I sit up, suddenly very, very interested.

“Wait, no way.” Five thousand pounds. That’s a lot of money that I could be using. Rent isn’t cheap.

“How could you not know this?” Baz sounds exasperated and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re even nominated for the award. How has it come to this?”

“There’s only seven of us. Four on the short-list in the paper. I have a real chance of winning this.” My skin is buzzing. Five thousand quid. I can hardly breathe for excitement.

“And you and I are going to lose it because Rachel gives it up to the faculty and we don’t.” He stops and stares at the wall, considering. “I wonder if on some level The Mage would be more likely to-”

“Stop right there.” I tell him, starting to stand. “Do not even go there. It’s bad enough he was meeting with me last week right after his squash tourney. Do you know he wears green tights when he plays? And now I will have this information with me for the rest of my life and I don’t want it.”

“That’s got to be some kind of violation of the Watford Student Code of Behaviour,” Baz mutters darkly. “Harassment at the very least.”

“He’s faculty, he doesn’t have to abide by the fucking student code of behaviour.”

“Whatever, I’m sure they have one for faculty. The Watford Faculty Code of Behaviour if you will.”

“Besides, we shouldn’t judge Rachel-”

“I’m judging her plenty. Their affair is stupid, but now it’s affecting my life and I’m annoyed. And it’s definitely against the Watford Student Code of Behaviour.” He frowns.

“Probably. I don’t think they ever disclosed it either. To the ethics board, I mean.” 

“Of course not, because then he wouldn’t be able to supervise her thesis, or nominate her for awards, or write glowing reference letters.” Baz puts on his glasses and mimes writing onto his hand, “Rachel is an exceptional candidate for this award. Her experience in performing fellatio is unmatched in any of my previous students-”

“Baz!” I hiss at him through my teeth. We are on the top floor of the building but it’s not unheard of for students to get lost, or to climb the spiral staircase up the tower to our office just to find out where it leads. “So they have an inappropriate relationship, and maybe she doesn’t deserve to be nominated. What can we do about it? Just drop it.”

“No,” he growls right back. “I have worked my arse off for this. I deserve this. This award is mine.”

“Look,” I try for placating and more or less hit the mark. “You’re a terrible person but a good TA. Your students are terrified of you, but I’ll admit they produce results. I’m not sure any of our sections have higher averages than yours, but this isn’t entirely an academic award. Rachel could be really great with her students, I hear from a couple of people that they love her.”

“If it’s all about personability then this award would be yours. Who cares if Rachel is good with her students? Your students love you, they want to be your friend. You’re not nearly as hard on them as you should be, and you’re entirely too accommodating to their boring sob stories and excuses, but if this award is a popularity contest you’d win hands down.” We stare at each other, me in shock because he’s finally said something mostly nice about me for once, and him because I feel like he really wants to drive the point home. “So if I were you, I would be even less inclined to drop it.”

We continue to stare at each other. I’ve never noticed, but his eyes are grey. 

I sigh.

“So what do you suggest?” I can’t believe I’ve fallen so low, to turn to Baz for advice.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to find proof of their affair to bring to the ethics board. Everyone knows it’s happening. We’ve just found the motivation to care.”

“I don’t know, it feels kind of wrong.” 

“Snow, that award is mine. I’ll even concede that you have a spitting chance at somehow being awarded it. But that won’t happen if we’re edged out by someone with an unfair advantage.”

I nod slowly, “I guess when you put it like that-”

“Yes, yes. I am very clever. I’m glad you’re finally catching up.” He frowns at his desk and I’m relieved to not be on the receiving end of that look for once.

“Should we call a truce?” He looks at me in surprise as I clarify. “I mean, while we try to take Rachel down. It’ll be easier if we’re not fighting each other the whole time.”

His face does something complicated I don’t really understand before he nods slowly.

“Good idea.” Two compliments in one day. I might actually die of surprise. I clear my throat.

“Okay, great.”

“Great.” He echoes.

I can’t help but smile a little as he turns towards his laptop. I hope fervently that this means I won’t get hit with the surprisingly thick student newspaper again. 

\-----

“So, what’s the plan?” He asks while we’re stuck in the exam centre on Friday afternoon. It’s only a term test, but the students in front of us look stressed. I can see one tearing out bits of her hair while she reads the question. I’m tempted to go over and tell her to stop. Baz follows my stare and raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

“Is this normal? Why are they so high strung?”

“Give them a break,” I whisper at him, “don’t your students ever freak out?”

“Yes, but they are usually considerate enough to do it in private. Besides, I teach second years. None of these wilting-flower first years who need constant coddling and tear up at every-”

“High praise. I wonder if you put that in their reference letters,” I say idly as I accept a scantron card from a kid I vaguely remember from the mandatory tutorial I teach on Wednesdays. He’s not familiar enough for me to know his name though, he must never show up to office hours. I glance at the name on his paper.

“I don’t write reference letters on principle. Except the one, a semester or two back.” He sounds smug. Like it’s some huge accomplishment to be a dick to your students instead of giving them a leg up in the world. He’s such an insufferable tool. I don’t take the bait though- I know that’s what he wants from me.

“Must have been an excellent student,” I say blandly as he accepts a few scantron cards and checks the names on the cards against the attendance sheet.

“She was something else,” He mutters. I tell myself the flicker of jealousy in the pit of my stomach comes from the surprise that he’s genuinely complimented anyone. That’s all it is. I work so hard and get nothing but scorn from him. Or even worse, treated like some kind of joke.

“Did you and she-?” I need to dial it back. It comes out surprised, but also jealous and petty. 

“What? No! Fuck, I would never date a student. Besides I don’t even-,” He cuts himself off abruptly. A couple of students have their heads turned his way and he raises his eyebrows at the bunch of them. They know enough about him to go back to their tests immediately. Then he looks over at me suspiciously and I sigh inwardly. Why does he always assume the worst about me? “Why, do you-?”

“Of course not! They're like kids.” I try not to act as offended as I feel. As if.

“They are. Also, it's completely against the Watford Student Code of-”

"You and the fucking student code of behaviour. I'd shove it up your arse but for the possibility that it would come out of your mouth even more than it already does."

He lets out a little huff of air that coming from anyone else I’d call a laugh. It’s kind of sweet, and somehow very him. Like he can’t let himself relax enough to outright laugh, but still can’t control everything about himself. Honestly, it’s a little relieving to know he’s not immune to a loosening up a little from time to time. It’s a good sign for the rest of this truce.

I’m still half smiling at him while I watch a few students line up at our table to hand in their scantrons. He’s doing me a solid by checking their attendance. I wonder if it’s because he’s just physically incapable of sitting by and watching other people get things done. If I were him I’d be doing the bare minimum- this isn’t even his class after all. 

He’s trying very hard to be nice, but he still scares the bejesus out of a few students when he barks at them to write down forgotten student numbers or test version codes. It’s almost soothing to hear that familiar pissy tone directed at others. Even if they are my scared students.

I blame what I say next on the fond feeling towards him I feel lighting up my chest. 

“Anyway, want to go out tonight?”

He drops the neat stack of tests and scantrons immediately. The girl handing in her test stops, hand outstretched, waiting awkwardly as he ignores her and stares at me. 

“Thanks Katy,” I say when it’s obvious he’s not with it. I take the test from her and smile encouragingly. She smiles back, somewhat nervously as she darts her eyes between us. Great, she’s going to tell all her friends in the class, and next thing I know I’ll be hauled in front of the ethics board to make a statement about conflict of interest. Although maybe not, I think idly as I watch Baz collect himself and kneel to start picking up the sheaf of papers scattered on the floor. Surely dating a TA from a different department wouldn’t count? Baz would know, it’s probably detailed in the Watford Student Code of Behaviour. 

“What was that about?” I ask, accepting the pile of papers from him. He’s still eyeing me with something I am pretty sure is suspicion. 

“You want to go out tonight?” He asks plainly. 

“Yeah, I asked around the department, and apparently Rachel and her supervisor do most of their meetings in the evenings. One of her friends mentioned something about the wine bar beside the tube station. I figured date night or thesis meeting, either way it’ll be enough for the ethics board if we catch them at it.”

“You want to go and stake out Rachel’s meeting with her supervisor?” He sounds surprised and- disappointed. I frown.

“It’s okay if you have plans already-”

“No, no. No plans.” He says quickly as he picks up a stack of scantrons and starts alphabetizing them by surname.

Honestly, I’m not surprised. From what I hear he doesn’t date, and he’s never had anyone meet him at the office either. Even I have Penny meet me there to go to lunch from time to time. For someone so infamous on campus he’s surprisingly… alone. And even though I’m mostly certain that this is more of a choice than anything else it still makes me- sad. I guess I can relate. I get along with almost everyone, but I can count my actual friends on one hand. Maybe even on one finger if I’m being serious with myself. 

“Great, we can go straight from the office after your afternoon class. You’ll have to leave early for once.”

“You notice when I leave?”

“I notice that you never leave before I do. You need to cut yourself some slack.”

He sneers like the idea is abhorrent to his very core.

“Thirty minutes remaining,” he barks at the heads leaned over the desks. I hear the scratching of pencils pick up in pace slightly at his announcement.

“What now?” I sit down and scoot my chair towards him so we can talk quietly. 

“We wait.”

We stare at each other for the rest of the allotted test time. He starts it, and I join in because I can never ignore him for long. Students slide their tests across the table towards us and sign their names dutifully on the attendance sheet. I have no idea what we’re doing, but it feels good to be part of something together. He tilts his head to the side and I lift my chin. He frowns at the smattering of moles on the side of my neck and I try to count his eyelashes.

“Five minutes,” I call, not breaking our stare. He raises his eyebrows. I wrinkle my nose in response. His eyes are very, very grey. 

“Time!” We call together. 

He breaks first, getting to his feet and moving down the rows to collect papers.

“Pencils down, it’s an academic offense to keep writing!” I hear him hiss as I move down my row, and I smile without meaning to. 

\-----

I’m poking at my laptop, trying to find the motivation to finish some calculations when there’s a knock at the door. One of my students, Heather, sticks her head in.

“Hi Simon. I thought I’d drop by and get those supplementary notes you mentioned in your email.” I wave her in as I start rummaging around my desk. I hear her edge her way into the room and immediately trip over my bag. 

“Sorry, watch your step.”

“Why is your office always so dark? Do you ever open the window?” She grumbles.

“Baz doesn’t let me open the blinds ever. He’s like some kind of vampire.”

“Oh hell yes, bite me daddy." Immediately I'm pissed. Honestly, no one deserves to be sexually harassed in the workplace. Even if it does occur behind their back and they are someone I hate. Despise. Whatever. 

I frown.

“That’s inappropriate.” I immediately try hard not to think about the Watford Student Code of Behaviour. 

“Sorry Simon. Bad joke.”

“He isn’t even that attractive, when you really think about it.” I continue idly as I poke around my desk for the supplementary notes I promised. I really need to take the time to organize this desk. I finally find them half hidden under a pile of marking I’ve been neglecting. 

She just stares at me.

“Sure.” She doesn’t believe me. “Thanks for the extra notes. I’ll have my essay to you by next Friday afternoon.”

“Thanks, you can slip it under the door if you don’t want to come to class to hand it in.” I’m embarrassed as hell. I shouldn’t have said anything about Baz at all. I’m such a loser.

He isn’t even that attractive. And such a fucking liar. 

“Awesome, you’re the best.” She smiles and heads out. I drop into my chair and let out a sigh. I check the clock. There’s still an hour left in Baz’s class. Usually around this time I’m cleaning up to try and get out of here before he gets back. It’s weird to be sitting here restless in my seat waiting for him to get here. 

Before I know what’s happening, I’m being shaken awake in my chair.

“Snow? Is this what happens when I leave you alone for literally any amount of time?” It’s Baz, and I blink at him blearily. I look around the office and notice the afternoon light through the blinds has dimmed.

“What time is it?” I ask as I rub my eyes.

“Half six. We should get going if we want to catch them at it.”

“Right.”

He offers me my coat and I struggle my arms into it. He’s already bundled up in his expensive looking coat, cashmere scarf wound tightly around his neck. I grab my bag and the flick the lights on our way out.

We don’t talk during the walk over. It’s snowing pretty heavily, and the wind is picking up. The street lamps have come on as we struggle towards the wine bar.

Finally, we squeeze our way in, and Baz nabs a table in one of the corners. Not the best for spying, but at least we can go unseen. I wrestle with my coat and gloves and stack them untidily on the chair next to me. 

“Were you wearing that shirt earlier?” He looks down at his white button down in surprise.

“Yes?” Wanker. I’m wearing an old jumper I’m pretty sure once belonged to Penny’s brother. I definitely stand out in a place like this, and not in a good way.

The waiter interrupts us to drop a couple of menus on the table.

“What do you guys have on tap?” I ask out of habit. Even before I’m done I feel a sharp kick under the table. “Actually, could you just give us a sec?” I frown at Baz’s scowl.

“What was that for?” I rub my shin. His shoes are pointy and now I have a wet spot on my jeans.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to get wasted? We’re here with a purpose.” He leans forward and hisses. Someone at the next table looks over with vague interest. I lean forward and put my hand on one of his and lean forward in my seat, trying to sound soothing.

“They’re not going to let us stay if we don’t rack up some kind of bill. It’s a Friday.” I murmur, rubbing my thumb on the back of his hand out of habit. I make eye contact with the guy at the table next to us and he turns away in embarrassment. That’s right, nothing to see here.

Baz just stares at our hands, intertwined on the table. I release his hand belatedly and cough a little to diffuse the awkwardness.

“Right.” He swallows, and immediately orders a bottle of the house red for the table when the waiter comes back. 

I try to raise my eyebrows at him but he pretends like he doesn’t notice.

\-----

They don’t show. 

Not as we make our way through the first bottle, or the second. At the beginning of the third I almost forget why we’re here.

We’re both flushed, and almost completely drunk. I’d refused to order any food I couldn’t pronounce on principle, which had ruled out basically everything on the menu. We’d started out making small talk, just some stuff here and there we’d never managed to cover while in the office (friends, hobbies, favourite books), but we’ve moved beyond that superficial stuff now. Somehow it’s easier to talk to him here, illuminated by candlelight and soft with wine.

‘He’s wasted’, I think to myself as I listen to him list the things he’s learned about astronomy since we started sharing an office. He claims to be able to recognize nine constellations. That seems like a lot for someone who can’t even name the different classes of stars. I fiddle with the stem of my wineglass and decide to call him out.

“I don’t believe you. I’m not afraid to say that I know nothing about economics. I’m pretty sure you’re just a liar.” He stops in the middle of describing something that I’m about halfway certain is supposed to be an explanation of parallax shift. For such a great TA he’s complete shit at explaining things. 

“Excuse me?” He sounds so offended I laugh. 

“You’re like a kid who reads a Wikipedia page and suddenly calls themselves an expert. That was the worst description of parallax shift I’ve ever heard, and in all honesty I’m not entirely sure that was what you were trying to explain since it made so little sense.” He growls quietly. “Anyway, you said you know nine constellations. That seems like quite a lot for a glorified math major.”

“Math is the basis of everything. You couldn’t handle being a math major.” He whines into his glass. I reach over and top it up. He’s still pouting. 

“So which constellations do you know exactly?” I prod him. 

“I don’t need to prove myself to you. I know some of them. The important ones,” he assures me as he works on the wine.

“Like which, though.”

“Like, Cassiopeia. The big dipper. The little dipper. Hercules. Aquarius- oh and the rest of the zodiac ones.”

I snort.

“Those don’t really count. Plus, it’s not really knowing them just to be able to name them. I doubt you could pick them out in the sky.”

“They do, and you said you wanted to know which ones I know, not the ones I recognize.” He’s very adamant. I lean back in my chair as he tries to keep counting them down on his fingers. “I also know Pegasus, Crater-”

I sit up in surprise. 

“Crater? That’s a weird one to know.”

“Well I do, so back off.” He’s immediately defensive again.

“Why would you know that one? It’s not even visible in the Northern Hemisphere. I’ve never even seen it. And I definitely wouldn’t call it one of the important ones.”

“It’s my favourite one, so it’s definitely important.” He frowns, looks at his mostly empty glass then back at the bottle of wine.

“I think I should cut myself off.” He says, pushing his glass away.

“Just help me finish this bottle,” I hear myself pleading. “I’m getting old. I’m going to have the worst hangover in the morning. The least you can do is share the misery.” He snorts but lets me refill his glass.

Later we find ourselves under the streetlight in front of the wine bar. The storm is even worse than it was before, but I’m pleasantly warm from the wine so I barely notice.

“Where are you?” He looks up from his phone and blinks at me. 

“Uh, pretty far. I drove this morning.”

“Urgh, who drives in London? Posh wanker. My flat is only a few tube stops away. You can crash at mine and come back in the morning to pick up your car.”

“Sure,” he says quickly.

The tube ride is quiet as we lean into each other. I don’t trust myself to be a hundred percent steady on my own feet. The swaying of the car is surprisingly soothing and I’m warm and sleepy. 

By the time we climb the stairs to the flat I share with Penny I can feel my eyes drooping. I’m pretty sure the hand Baz has on the small of my back is his effort to manhandle me upright towards the door. I fumble with my keys and let us in.

I see Penny’s socked foot dangling off the edge of the sofa and creep towards her. She’s fast asleep with her laptop open on her stomach. I can see her Facetime window open, and the familiar shapes of Micah’s room on the screen. I tip toe back towards Baz who is squinting at me from the doorway.

“She’s asleep,” I whisper, wrangling him out of his coat and scarf. His eyes are wide in the low light, but he doesn’t say anything, he just stands there while I remove his stuff and throw it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. I quickly drop all of mine on top and we toe off our shoes.

I grab him by the wrist and lead him towards my room. He’s holding us up. I glance back at him, he’s walking slowly as he tries to look at everything around him.

“Your snooping is keeping me from my bed.” I whisper to him. He frowns a little, but grudgingly picks up the pace.

Once we’re safely ensconced in my room I shuck my clothing and pull on some ratty pyjama bottoms I find on the floor near my bed.

“Your room is just like your desk. I’ve never known anyone to be as messy as you.” He’s still standing in the doorway, pointedly staring at the mess on my floor. 

I look around.

“It’s alright. I reckon your cleanliness is unnatural.” I gesture towards my chest of drawers. “There should be trackkies or something in there if you want. They’ll be a little short but probably more comfortable than your poncy trousers. The loo is just down the hall.”

I brush my teeth and wash my face. By the time I get back to my room Baz is already collapsed face-down on my usual side of the bed, his trousers folded neatly on my desk chair. 

“Budge up. For someone so lanky you take up a lot of space.” He grumbles as I poke him in the side, but he wriggles over to make room.

“God, it’s freezing. I should have known you of all people would live in an ice box.” He tugs the duvet higher over himself.

I reach over and turn off the bedside light.

It’s quiet as we lay there, trying to get comfortable. I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. I can’t remember the last time I shared a bed with someone. And I’m certain I’ve never shared one with someone I hated before. I feel, then hear the rustle of the sheets as he turns over to face the ceiling.

He laughs.

I open my eyes at the sound and turn over to face him.

Oh.

The little glow in the dark star stickers on my ceiling shine dimly at us and I scrub my hands over my face in embarrassment. 

“Oh Merlin,” I forgot all about those. 

“This might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He sounds so earnest I can’t even feel offended. He already knows I’m a joke, it’s not like knowing this could make it any worse.

“If I wasn’t sure before, I would know now that you’re completely wasted.” I deadpan as he chuckles to himself. 

“Are they in any particular configuration?” We stare up at the ceiling together.

“No, not really. I mean, I could have but it would have taken way more effort than I wanted to put in. Plus, once you start something like that it becomes a whole project, and that wasn’t really what it was about.”

“What was it about then?” He rolls over to face me, and I keep staring at the ceiling, avoiding his eyes.

“Uhm. It’s stupid. I guess it’s a comfort thing mostly. I knew this one guy in school years and years ago who got a huge pack of them for his birthday, he brought them to class to show us. He had planets, stars, and they were all different sizes and colours. In care we never got anything like that. I used to lie awake and wish that one day I’d be able to have something just like it-”

I’m embarrassed as I feel my throat tighten uncomfortably. It’s hard sometimes to think about being in care. I don’t know why I’m telling him this. Baz is posh, he couldn’t understand what it’s like to have absolutely nothing, and just- what it’s like to always be sitting on the sidelines, feeling yourself want. 

“That’s not stupid.” I keep my eyes on the ceiling. I feel him move closer.

“Snow, that’s the least stupid thing I’ve ever heard.” I finally turn my head to look at him. He’s so close. I don’t know what I expected to find in his face, but it wasn’t this. There isn’t a trace of mocking there.

“Thank you,” I whisper into the space between us.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back.

We fall asleep just like that, face to face. 

\-----

I wake up to the sound of the kettle. I sit up blearily, rubbing my eyes. Baz is still sprawled out next to me, half rolled over on his stomach. He wore his shirt to bed and it’s rucked halfway up, exposing the long line of his back. I find myself staring longer than is appropriate.

I yawn and head towards the kitchen. Penny is up, poking at some eggs on the burner and eyeing her steaming cup of tea. I have to stop halfway to the fridge to take deep breaths. I feel like my head has been put through the dryer.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. I didn’t hear you come in last night.” She smiles as she pokes at the eggs.

“Nah, looks like you made an early night of it.” I open the fridge and find a couple of slices of cold pizza. Score.

“So?” She raises her eyebrows at me as I lean against the counter and dig in. I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. I’m probably about to starve to death on top of everything else. 

“So what?” I ask around a mouthful of pepperoni. It speaks to the strength of our friendship that she barely wrinkles her nose at this. She jerks her head towards the pile of jackets and scarves on one of the kitchen chairs.

I’m in the middle of trying to swallow when the door to my bedroom opens. Both our heads turn in unison as Baz shuffles out in his wrinkled shirt and pants. I guess he didn’t want the trackkies after all. He groans as he tries in vain to head off the morning light streaming into the apartment.

Penny looks like Christmas has come early.

“Bunce,” he greets her as he ambles towards the loo. 

“Good morning Basil.” Her voice is syrupy sweet. It’s a little shrill and definitely doesn’t do anything to alleviate the pressure I feel behind my eyes. The second we hear the door close, she whips her head towards me so quickly it makes me dizzy.

“Siiiimon.” She sing-songs.

“Enough. Penny I’m so hungover, you need to use your indoor voice. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Sure thing. Is your hangover at all related to why Mr. tall, dark, and brooding spent the night in your room?”

“We’re trying to expose Rachel’s affair with her thesis supervisor to exclude her from the TA of the year candidate pool. We staked out the wine bar near campus last night on a tip, but they never showed.” 

She blinks at me.

“That’s probably the least sexy explanation for any of this. So you just somehow ended up back here, where he fell asleep in your bed without any trousers?” I frown. 

“Like I said we were wasted, he couldn’t just get into his car and drive back to his flat. Where do we keep the paracetamol?”

The door to the loo opens and I startle as Baz walks into the kitchen and tosses something at me. I fumble but manage to catch it. It’s a bottle of paracetamol.

“Stop reading my mind,” I tell him even as I pop it open and swallow a couple of pills gratefully. “And don’t go through our things, it’s rude.”

He waves a hand dismissively and heads back into the bedroom. I manage to scarf down another slice of pizza in the time it takes him to emerge. This time he’s wearing his trousers. 

“You look like shit,” I tell him. 

“Yeah,” he agrees pathetically. His shirt is wrinkled, and his hair is flat on one side. His expression is peaky, and it’s obvious last night did a number on him. “I’m thinking now that maybe the third bottle of wine was a mistake.”

He sits at the table and puts his head in his hands. It’s amazing. I never thought I’d see him looking so vulnerable. I always kind of thought he was above getting ill- like he just wouldn’t allow himself to ever feel anything less than perfectly healthy. 

“Here,” I fumble with the kettle and busy myself making him a cuppa. He downs it in one go. I sigh and put down my final slice of pizza and make him another.

“Thanks.”

“Plans for the day?”

He pulls a face.

“I’m supposed to meet my family for lunch in two hours.” I make a sympathetic noise. My plans for the day include getting back into bed with the bottle of paracetamol and probably never leaving again. We linger over our tea, awkward with newfound camaraderie. 

When he finally leaves, I grab the bottle of paracetamol and get right back in bed. 

It smells like cedar and bergamot. 

\-----

On Monday morning I trudge into the office after my early class. I have half a doughnut between my teeth and I’m balancing a stack of tests in my arms. I feel refreshed after my weekend convalescence and I feel like I can finally catch up on all my marking.

Baz isn’t here, he’s probably off meeting with his thesis supervisor. He plans his weeks diligently and likes to have a little list of goals to peruse, which means he jumps in with both feet at the very beginning of the week like some kind of keener. 

The first thing I do after I dump the tests all over my desk is lean over and open the blinds. He can’t complain if he isn’t here. The soft winter light is a dream come true, and instantly deepens my resolve to get some work done. 

I sit down, and immediately jump back up. There’s something on my chair.

I stuff the rest of the doughnut in my mouth and pick up the small plastic box. It’s a glow in the dark sticker kit, not unlike the stars I bought the day Penny and I moved into our flat. But this one is at least twice the number stickers I have on my ceiling, and there isn’t a single star in sight. Instead it’s full of planets, comets, meteors and what looks like the international space station. They’re so bright in the morning light, swirling pinks, purples and blues. As I turn the box over in my hand, they catch the light and- yes- they sparkle with glitter. 

I love them.

I sit down and fiddle with the plastic box, opening it enough to pour a few of the stickers into my hand. I run my fingers along the smooth plastic and watch them sparkle. I’m still sitting there looking at them when the door opens, and Baz lets himself in.

Or at least he tries. He spots me and freezes halfway into the room like he’s considering bolting. I’m holding a pink sticker of the international space station an inch from my face. 

“This is definitely not to scale,” I say, smiling at him. He’s still staring. It’s kind of freaking me out. “Thank you.” 

He shrugs, finally heading towards his desk and dropping his bag to the floor. I see him squint quickly at me, then at the opened blinds. I smile at him, still twirling the international space station idly between my fingers.

He lets out a long-suffering sigh and sits at his desk, pulling his laptop out of his bag. I wait for him to lean over and snap the blinds closed, but he doesn’t. 

I finally put the stickers to the side as I finally turn towards my own marking. I can’t exactly faff off now that he’s back. I’ve made it through a couple of tests when I notice the silence in the room- the absence of the rhythmic typing that usually signals his presence.

I look up curiously.

It looks like he’s day dreaming, chin cupped in the palm of his hand as he leans forwards in his chair. He jolts when he catches my gaze and drops his eyes back to his screen.

“How was lunch?” I ask. 

He sneers.

“Excruciating.”

“I’m sure the hangover didn’t help.” I try to sound sympathetic. 

“The hangover was the tough part. I don’t mind seeing my family.”

“Huh, that’s interesting. I never figured you for a family man.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He disagrees, but I catch a small smile at the corner of his mouth. 

It’s quiet the rest of the afternoon, but for once I don’t mind. 

\-----

I see the email the very next morning.

Baz is sitting at his desk thumbing through an economics journal. I read the email quickly and glance up at him. I hover my mouse over the delete icon as I try to decide whether to bring this up or not. I quickly open up Facebook and scroll down Rachel’s page for clues. Not much, but I glance at the open email again anyway.

I can’t help but sigh.

“Out with it, Snow.” Baz doesn’t even bother looking at me while he says it, like he wants me to know how much more important his journal article is than anything I could possibly be thinking.

“You’re not gonna like it,” I admit in defeat, turning my laptop around so he can see.

He squints at the screen.

“Snow, this office is small but not that small. You’ll need to read whatever it is to me.”

I sigh again.

“There’s a conference this weekend. I didn’t put two and two together, but Rachel’s supervisor is presenting a discussion on astronomical instrumentation. She’s probably going to be attending.”

“If he’s presenting wouldn’t his wife be there? They’re not that stupid, we won’t catch them at it like that.”

“No, his wife never comes to these events. I’m pretty sure they have young kids, she might stay home with them- or at least I’ve never met her and I attend a bunch of these, especially when Watford faculty are presenting.”

“Crowley, this is perfect then! Snow, we need to go to this conference. Get us in.”

“Us? This is my department! You can’t just tag along. There’s a registration fee and everything- it’s like two hundred quid.”

Baz waves his hand, “I’m sure your department will reimburse the expense for you. Don’t worry about me, I’ll pay the guest fee and pretend I’m just really interested.”

“It’s going to be super dull. I’ve looked at the topics, they’re pretty technical and not great.”

Baz makes a dismissive noise and I feel something like despair growing in me.

I sigh again and watch his eyes flash in annoyance. I decide to call him out once and for all.

“It’s in Glasgow.” I watch his eyes widen. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. Privately I agree. It’s a little more involved than taking a quick jaunt to a couple of lectures. “Well,” he finally makes eye contact with me, “I hope you didn’t have any plans this weekend. We’ll have to drive up Friday after lunch so we can be at the panels bright and early Saturday.”

“Oh Merlin,” I put my head in my hands. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. There goes my weekend. 

“Bring your bag Friday morning. I don’t want to make any unnecessary stops after your tutorial. I’ll skip my afternoon class.” He’s already pulled out his planner and is writing stuff down. He’s probably already deciding what clothes to pack.

“So, should we get the train tickets then?” I open my browser and start searching. He laughs.

“Train tickets? Do I look like the kind of person who takes the train? We’ll take my car.”

“Don’t be such a snob, everyone takes the train. It makes more sense.”

“I like driving. And you really shouldn’t complain, it’s not like it’ll make a difference to you.” I suck on my bottom lip to stop myself from snapping at him. He looks up and frowns.

“Cheer up Snow, this could be it. You’ll be one step closer to five thousand pounds.”

\-----

“What’s all this?” Penny asks Thursday night, standing in the doorway to my room with her toothbrush. She’s looking down at my suitcase and the random snarl of clothing I’ve grabbed from the floor and started sorting through.

“Uhhh.” I realize there is no way of explaining this that doesn’t sound absolutely insane. “I’m going to an astronomy conference in Glasgow this weekend.”

There we go, that’s true at least.

“Sucks, I know how much you hate those.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be awful.” She smiles.

“Is that because you’ll have to sit through the lectures, or because of the company?” I stare, and she smiles even wider before pulling my phone I left on the kitchen table out from behind her back. “Baz wants to remind you to bring your bag tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want any delays in starting your romantic mini break-”

I dart to the door and swipe my phone from her hand. She wiggles her eyebrows at me and I feel the back of my neck flushing.

“It’s not a mini break. Rachel’s supervisor is giving a keynote address and we’re going to see-”

“Oh enough about Rachel! It’s like you can’t even hear yourself. This is obviously just a way for you to spend time with him without either of you having to find the courage to admit to it.”

I frown and pout. 

“I don’t want to spend time with him! I see him all the time. He spends like twenty hours a week harassing me in the privacy of our shared office. I don’t need an excuse to see any more of him.”

“You invited him here after your stakeout last week, didn’t you?”

“He was wasted, he couldn’t have driven home-”

“You’re right. I’m sure he wouldn’t have been able to take the tube alone or call an uber, or anything else. He just had to come here and sleep in your bed-”

“You were on the couch! We really need to get an air mattress or something-”

“And now you guys just happen to be going away together for a weekend-”

“It was his idea,” I explain weakly. I mean, I was the one who brought up the whole thing, but Baz is the one who wants to go. I’m just being dragged along.

Her smiles flattens and I loathe the expression that replaces it. Pity.

“Look Si, I’m only kind of taking the piss here. Since the beginning of the year all you’ve done is talk about him. I listen to you whine about Basil every single day. Maybe do yourself a favour and just- think about it at least.”

“There’s nothing to think about,” I mumble grumpily, but I still accept her hug goodnight and the next morning as I get ready to leave for school, we don’t mention it at all. 

\-----

Baz is already waiting in our office when I get back after my mandatory tutorial. He’s leaning on the edge of his desk, neat leather duffle sitting at his feet. He barely glances up from his phone while I edge my way to my desk, hastily tossing a bunch of essays and late assignments into my inbox. I fumble around under my desk for a second, knocking over a half-empty box of granola bars before producing the overnight bag I stuffed under there this morning. 

“Let’s do this,” I sound resigned and tired. He raises an eyebrow at me before walking out the door. I follow him and lock the door behind us.

The drive is excruciating. We argue over everything- the route, the temperature inside the car, how frequently we need to stop for food and washroom breaks. I think longingly of the train on several occasions. Although Baz was right- there is little for me to do other than pout and nap. Occasionally when he’s distracted by traffic I take the opportunity to crank the air con. 

By the time we pull up to the hotel attached to the conference centre it’s completely dark out. We grab our bags and Baz gives his keys to the valet service. 

“I’m going to see if I can grab us adjoining rooms,” I mutter as we walk towards the front desk. We get in line behind a group of girls wearing sashes proclaiming “BRIDE TRIBE”. A few of them giggle and turn around to eye Baz appreciatively. He ignores them and continues thumbing through his phone. 

“Simon!” I freeze, and notice Baz straightening up beside me. The Mage is walking towards us, dressed in his usual green. I immediately plaster a smile on my face that must make me look deranged. I hadn’t mentioned that I was coming. I should have known he’d be here- he’s up for tenure soon, he’ll be networking. There’s a man at his elbow and- I see Baz notice him before I do. It’s Dr. Morris, Rachel’s supervisor.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.” The Mage steals the thought from my head. “And bringing company too?” He and Dr. Morris glance between me and Baz. We are obviously here together, we’re in line to check in together. There is literally no conceivable reason for Baz to be here with me, there is no way anything at this conference is even remotely related to economics.

“Uhhh,” I flounder. We can’t exactly come out and say that we’ve come here together to surveil our competition for the TA of the year award. Or that Baz just fancied a trip to Glasgow and we ran into each other. “Yeah, sort of a mini break. And conference. You know, killing two birds with one stone.” I say quickly, reaching out and grabbing Baz by the wrist. He looks down at my hand and up at me. He looks perturbed.

“Well I hope this weekend won’t be too dull for you,” Dr. Morris starts, “let’s hope Simon finds something in all these lectures that you’ll find interesting enough.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, I always find Simon interesting enough at least.” The lie is so smooth I blush. He tugs on my hand and laces our fingers together. The Mage notices and raises his eyebrows. I’m sure he’s well aware of our personal history, considering how often I’ve been bitching about Baz to anyone who will listen.

We’re at the front of the line, and the clerk is trying to subtly make eye contact. 

“Oh, we should-,” I gesture vaguely towards the clerk. 

“Yes, yes,” the Mage waves in dismissal. “We’ll wait while you two check in. Then we can all head to the bar for a night cap. There’s more faculty that will be happy to see a friendly face.” The tone grates on my nerves. He’s been telling me what to do for years now as my supervisor, and now even in my personal time. I make a face as Baz drags me to the front desk. 

“Well, looks like we found the target,” I say under my breath as we reach the counter. “Hi, we’d like to book two-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Baz interrupts quietly. “A single room will do. Two nights. Something with a view if possible, please.” I’m about to ask, but then I follow his gaze back to the Mage and Dr. Morris, who are waiting and watching us (suspiciously and benignly respectively) close by. It’s the right decision, I note as Baz slides his credit card to the clerk and she returns it after a minute with a flourish and a surprisingly loud voice.

“Room 1754, here are a couple of keys, the wifi password is in there too. The continental breakfast begins at half six and goes until ten. Check out is at noon.”

“Thank you,” I say and grab the keys and receipt, slipping them into my jacket pocket. Baz sends our luggage up with the concierge and all that’s left for us is to join the Mage and Dr. Morris for the walk to the bar.

\-----

“He suspects us,” I whisper to Baz as we get into the elevator. We escaped as soon as we could, but we’ve still been captive audience to the Mage for far too long. Baz hums.

“Probably because you go out of your way to make sure everyone knows how much you hate me. Can you blame him for being surprised that we turn up here together?” I frown.

“I don’t exactly hate you,” I tell him as the elevator pings our floor. 

“That’s news to me,” he deadpans, but I can see the hint of a smile. I fumble one of the keys to the room from my pocket and let us in.

Our bags are sitting neatly on the bed, and there’s a view of the River Clyde from the window. I buy myself some time and go to have a look, and find the world’s smallest balcony. 

I get back inside and see Baz rooting through his duffle.

“It’s getting late.” I tell him, and open my own bag. I take out a pair of pyjama bottoms and my toothbrush and head to the loo. When I get out Baz is dressed in a pair of silk pyjamas. I snort. He looks up and frowns.

“I get cold at night, okay?”

“So maybe you should be wearing flannel instead then?”

“Look at me, do I look like the kind of person who wears flannel?” Baz scoffs. He grabs a small leather bag and heads to the loo. While he’s occupied I look at the bed. Standard Queen by the looks of it. Same size as the bed I have back home.

It feels weird to slip under the covers, but I keep reminding myself that this is hardly new territory- we did the exact same thing a week ago. The lights are still on, and I find myself wishing I had turned them off. I grab my phone and try to look busy.

Baz exits the loo and gets the lights. My eyes take a minute to adjust but I can still see him hesitate at the edge of the bed before sliding under the covers next to me.

I fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

\-----

I wake up slowly. The bed is warm, and the sunlight from the open curtains gently welcomes me to wakefulness. I shift to settle my face back into the bulk of the pillow and instead find skin pressed up against skin.

I open my eyes all at once and see that I’ve moved across the bed in my sleep. I’m pressed up against Baz as tightly as we’ll fit. My face is nestled into the soft space between his shoulder and neck, and I’m breathing soft wet breaths against the exposed skin there. I have one hand under my pillow, and the other one has pushed between the buttons on his pyjama shirt and is resting softly on his stomach. He’s warm with sleep, and his bare skin feels divine under my hand. I immediately abandon that train of thought. 

I pull myself away slowly, and I tell myself it’s so that I don’t accidentally wake him. It’s one thing to share a bed with your nemesis, but it’s something else completely to get caught spooning him. I trudge to the loo to get ready for the day. 

“I’m gonna go check out breakfast,” I say, sitting on his edge of the bed. Baz just turns his face deeper into his pillow and grunts. “Come join me when you’re up.”

I’m tucking into my second plate when Baz drops into the chair opposite mine. He has a plate with a piece of toast and a cup of tea. 

“Of course you would wake me at the crack of dawn.” He bitches, stirring his tea. I check my watch.  
“Baz, it’s almost nine,” He wrinkles his nose at me.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full Snow, you’re putting me off my breakfast.”

“What breakfast? You can’t mean this,” I gesture to his mostly empty plate. He looks down and I take the opportunity to push my plate closer and shove some of the mess onto his. His lip curls in distaste but he doesn’t comment further.

“So, Dr. Morris’ keynote starts at two. The topic is Dynamic modelling of MaNGA. Rachel’s research is tangentially related, so she’ll be there to network if nothing else. We should probably sit through at least one other lecture this morning or afternoon to make it look like I’m here for an actual reason.”

“We’re not going to see anything inappropriate during the actual presentation. Seems like a waste of time to sit through it,” Baz comments, pushing some food around his plate.

“Yes, but now that the Mage knows I’m here he’s going to be all up in my business about the keynote. Not going will just convince him that we’re up to no good. I vote that we leverage some of my contacts and try to join Dr. Morris and Rachel for dinner or drinks wherever they end up tonight. That’s probably where we’ll find something we can bring to the ethics board.”

Baz sighs and leans forward on his elbows.

“If I have to spend my entire evening making nice with the Mage, I’m going to strangle you with my bare hands.”

“Weird, that’s my kink.” I say idly, eyeing the buffet and trying to decide whether a third trip is in order. Across from me Baz coughs violently and several heads turn his way. I ignore him until he’s put himself back in order, face slightly flushed. 

“Come on, let’s finish up here. We’ve a long day ahead,” I beckon him even as I decide one more plate couldn’t hurt. 

\-----

A long day doesn’t even begin to describe it.

We sit through not two, but four lectures because Baz is incapable of doing anything with a normal amount of self discipline and insists that we play the part. I tune out the talks and instead stare at the bare skin exposed between Baz’s trouser leg and his sock when he crosses his legs. No wonder he’s so tall, his legs go on forever. 

Every now and then I glance across the room at Rachel. Her long dark hair against her yellow sweater makes her easy to spot. She’s carefully taking notes and nodding along with the discussion. It bothers me, and I wish I had brought a notebook or something.

Much, much later, the conference winds up for the day and groups of people linger in the lobby, networking and discussing the day’s topics. Baz physically drags me through the crowd, whispering intently about finding Rachel and Dr. Morris. I tug against the drag on my wrist curiously and Baz tightens his grip, pull unyielding. 

We finally find them talking to the Mage and someone I recognize vaguely as an adjunct professor who may have taught me linear algebra a couple of years ago. 

“Go on, go talk to her,” Baz hisses, pushing me towards Rachel and trying to look like he’s following me idly.

Rachel smiles at us while I greet her. She says she and Baz have already met, and winks at him conspiratorially when she sees our hands clasped together. Soon she and I are discussing some of the more interesting parts of the keynote (or what I can remember anyway) and Dr. Morris and the Mage turn to us to join the conversation. 

Dr. Morris and Rachel are standing shoulder to shoulder, but nothing suspicious. In fact, the only people acting suspiciously are Baz and the Mage, Baz’s eyes narrowed at Rachel, and the Mage’s darting between us. I move my thumb across the skin of Baz’s wrist and hope the Mage sees it. I really need to censor myself more carefully when I talk to others.

Soon we are moving towards the bar, and I think we’re finally on track for what we’ve come all this way for.

\-----

Dr. Morris and Rachel stay surprisingly professional after two drinks. Three. Four. They are exemplary examples of the Watford Student Code of Behaviour in action. I hate them both a little. 

In fact, if anyone here is unprofessional it’s me. The more I drink the closer and closer I gravitate towards Baz. The more he drinks, the pinker in the cheeks he gets, and the more he lets himself smile. He’s irresistible. 

We keep looking back and forth at each other, him possibly because he doesn’t understand why I’ve seemingly given up on trying to feel out Rachel and Dr. Morris’ affair, and me because I couldn’t possibly be looking at anyone else when he’s right there.

“How long have you two been together?” Rachels asks.

“Oh, uhm. Not that long.” I try to stay as vague as possible. 

“So, I guess everything worked out for you?” She says this to Baz. He raises an eyebrow in her direction but when he speaks, he says it to me.

“I guess it did.” Then he smiles all the way up to his eyes. I am completely entranced. I let everything happen around me as I idly watch Baz and accept drinks as they are given to me. Suddenly everyone is getting up, and Baz is moving into my personal space, dropping a hand to the small of my back. I relax into the touch and am rewarded with a firm rub. 

“We should probably get some food in you, Snow.” Baz murmurs into the space behind my ear. And honestly it makes me want to cry. Food is probably the only thing that is missing from making this a perfect moment. 

“Join me for dinner?” The Mage asks the group of us. Rachel makes her apologies but begs off, telling us she’s promised to meet up with a friend living in the area. Dr. Morris makes an excuse too, something about being tired and ordering room service later. That leaves me and Baz. The Mage is eyeing us expectantly, and I can’t for the life of me think of anything to say that isn’t the truth (that there’s no way I’m going to spend any more time than absolutely necessary in his company).

“Thanks for the invite, but this is where I made Simon promise me the mini break part of the trip would apply.” The Mage frowns and I’m equally impressed and perturbed by the ease with which Baz lies. No wonder he’s always up to no good, he’s a natural at it. 

I almost laugh out loud at the look on the Mage’s face. Instead I make a weird little whistling noise as I try to hold it in, which makes Baz laugh- and then we look like a right pair of nutters as we walk away laughing together. 

We brave the cold and run across the street, ducking into the first restaurant we find. I brush snow off Baz’s shirt as he finds us a table near the window. The waiter comes by and asks if he can bring us any drinks. We smile mischievously at each other as we assure him that he can. 

I don’t even bother reading the menu. I let Baz order for us.

He alternates between looking out the window and watching me. I just stare at him. I don’t have anything to say. The food comes and I almost weep with joy. Plates of cheese, bread, pasta. It’s a dream come true.

We eat in silence, occasionally nudging the other under the table with our shoes. It’s the nicest meal I’ve had in a long, long time.

\-----

The trip back across the street and up to the room is a blur. We take turns in the loo before I crawl into bed and let myself relax into the mattress. I feel his side of the bed dip as he joins me. I’m so warm and full, it’s impossible to be anything but in a good mood. I hear a soft sound of contentment from his side of the bed and I smile to myself.

“You know, I argued with one of my students about whether or not you’re attractive the other day,” I hear myself say out loud, and immediately wish I could take the words back. I lie back in the bed and close my eyes. I should stuff my fist in my mouth or something- anything to stop me from speaking. 

“Weird, I didn’t think the topic was debatable.” 

“Urgh, I always knew you were a vain bitch.” He laughs, and I wish I could see it through the darkness of the room. “It isn’t though. I think I was just jealous.”

“You were jealous that your student thought I was attractive?” I keep my eyes on the ceiling when replying.

“Yes. Well, not exactly. Just that- everyone is obsessed with you. Even me. I talk about you constantly. You’re like, a topic of interest to everyone and yet no one is worth your time.”

His response takes a long time.

“I- I don’t connect with people easily.” I hear him swallow audibly. We really don’t need to be this close together- the bed has plenty of room. I close my eyes and exhale slowly. 

“That sounds like an excuse. Everyone wants to know you. You could connect with anyone you wanted- pull anyone who’s ever laid eyes on you probably.” My voice is halfway between exasperated and envious. 

“That’s not what I want.”

“Obviously not, but I don’t get it. You’re like the loneliest person I’ve ever met other than myself, but I feel like you kind of choose to be like that.” I feel the mattress shift as he turns to face me. I keep my eyes screwed shut. 

“Are you lonely, Snow?” It’s quiet. If I wasn’t lying right next to him I probably wouldn’t hear it at all.

I let out a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m so fucking lonely. Before last week I don’t think I’d shared a bed with anyone in years. I’ve only really got Penny you know? I mean, I know lots of people and stuff- but no one really knows me. Understands me. Only Penny- and she’s got her own stuff going on.”

He’s quiet and I wonder if I’ve freaked him out by opening up. Baz Pitch, allergic to feelings or whatever. Then-

“I’ve never shared a bed with anyone else, ever.” My heart is beating so loud I’m sure he can hear it. It’s impossible that he doesn’t. What do I even say to something like that?

“Oh.” It comes out of me like a sigh. I’m both incredibly grateful and full of despair that I can’t find it in myself to do anything but keep my eyes closed so I can’t see him. “Neat.”

Oh my god.

“I don’t think you’d lie to me, not right now, but I don’t want to believe you.” My mouth is now completely out of my control, and I just keep going. “Your legs are ridiculous. And your laugh is like a blessing, just because I know how rare it is- so when it actually happens it’s like so much better. I can’t even understand what you’ve just said to me because I’m legitimately going crazy and you’re not even doing anything- just lying here next to me.”

I manage to shut myself up and spend the silence after my words trying to spontaneously combust through sheer will power. I am unsuccessful. 

He moves even closer and-

“Am I making you crazy, Snow?” He’s so close now that I feel the words against my skin as much as I hear them.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Everything you do makes me crazy. You’re like tyrant in the office, but you’re so fucking smart and good at what you do- no one, no one on Earth is as neat as you, and I’ve never managed to meet anyone even half as disciplined as you are. And I even couldn’t believe it when we went out last week, finally seeing you somewhere not academic, just- well it fucked me up.” I admit to him, and to myself.

I have no idea what’s happening. All I know is that I am actually going crazy, lying here in the dark. It’s quiet for so long I contemplate trying to fall asleep and pretending that none of this ever happened.

“Snow,” he starts, and I feel the mattress start to shift beneath me and-

“I’m so fucking wasted.” I murmur, scrubbing my hands across my face. I feel Baz immediately freeze from where he’s curled up next to me.

“Your drinking habits are becoming a concern,” he says lightly, and whatever was on the verge of happening dies. He turns over and moves back towards his side of the bed. I reach my hand out into the space he so recently occupied. The sheets are warm. The thought of it makes me ache. 

\-----

The next morning I avoid him as much as I can possibly avoid someone I am stuck in physical proximity to. The drive home is quiet as I let him choose the music, and ignore it when he turns off the air con.

I’m so fucking stupid. Maybe he’s right, my drinking is becoming a concern. Especially when it encourages me to go off the rails and start listing all the things I like about him. He probably thinks I’m just another weird admirer- just like all the other people who hang onto his every word and try to fit themselves into his life. It’s probably exhausting for him to act like he doesn’t notice them- and now I’m one of them.

I wish I found it weird that there are things that I like about him. In many ways he’s still the bane of my academic existence- but I can’t lie to myself anymore. Somehow, he’s become more than that.

The thought scares me enough that when he drops me off in front of my building, I can’t find anything to say before nodding at him and slamming the car door behind me.

The next morning I duck into the office quietly, and sigh in relief when I notice he’s already gone to his faculty meeting, or wherever he chooses to be when he’s not here. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I’m sure Penny knew something was amiss but she’s left me alone to try and work it out. I wish I knew how to label or express what I’m feeling. I just know- well nothing at all I guess.

\-----

The rest of the week is quiet. I work on catching up with my marking, and Baz knows enough to leave me to it. In fact, his sarcastic remarks and condescension kind of let up. I wish it was because he was being kind and giving me space to work through whatever is happening to me. But more likely he’s pitying me and my feelings and doesn’t know how else to approach it- hence ignoring it. Ignoring me.

I used to be able to always get a reaction out of Baz. Now I sit at my desk and can’t remember a single time since we’ve been back in the city that he’s even looked my way. It hurts in a way I don’t understand. 

A week passes, then another. We don’t talk outside of bland pleasantries. He hopes I had a nice weekend. I mention during a particularly fierce storm that I hope he brought a scraper for his car windshield. We smile in each other’s direction and I still don’t know what I’m missing- just that it’s not there anymore.

\-----

I run into Rachel by accident one afternoon outside the observatory. Seeing her in person makes me think about the award for the first time in weeks.

“Hey! How have you been?” She smiles and I feel bad for trying to ruin her chances. She works hard, she deserves this award as much as any of us.

“Oh you know,” I shrug, “same old.”

We chat idly for awhile, we share a lot of the same classes so there’s a lot of shit talk for us to get through. 

“-And, would you believe it, she REFUSED to split the uber with me after all that.” Rachel waves her hands around and I need to physically back away to prevent being hit in the face.

“Disgusting,” I agree.

“We were supposed to go on a roadtrip across Canada this summer, but honestly I’m over her. I’ll just go without her if that’s what her attitude is going to be like.”

“It’ll suck not having someone to split the hotels and petrol with though,” I say, glancing at my watch. I still have another twenty minutes before I need to head to class.

“It’ll be fine, and definitely worth it if I won’t have to put up with her bullshit.” She shrugs, “besides, the undergraduate TA of the year award comes with a stipend. Maybe I’ll win it and then I won’t need to split anything for awhile.” She laughs and I stare at her.

She wants to use the undergraduate TA award stipend to go on vacation? I need that money for rent. It’s so unfair I feel my mouth twist in displeasure. 

“How’s your boy?” She leans against the wall and I need a second to pull myself together. I’m still angry at the idea of using the award money for something as frivolous as a vacation and now she’s just gone and unknowingly hit another sore spot.

I’m not quick enough.

“Sorry,” she says, interpreting my grimace. “I didn’t realize that had fizzled out.”

“It hasn’t really,” I quickly defend myself. “It’s just-”

“He works too hard. You both do,” she interrupts me. “But especially him. I can’t say I understand the appeal. Like he’s obviously fit, but he strikes me as such a stick in the mud.”

Despite the heavy weight I feel in the bottom of my stomach I manage a laugh. It’s true- I doubt anyone has ever associated with Baz with the word fun in his whole life. 

“He’s very serious,” I agree, “ever since Glasgow he’s been breaking his back trying to get back on track with the final edits of his thesis. It hasn’t exactly nurtured our relationship.”

“He needs a break, and if he won’t give himself one, you need to do it for him. Mine is exactly the same.”

I’ve been going along with this conversation idly, looking for a way to make a quick exit to head to class but now she has my full attention.

“Oh?”

“You know the type. Type A, perfectionist. They’ll never cut themselves some slack- but for the right person-.” She shrugs and I try desperately to figure out how to leverage this conversation into something I can use. “Look, it’s my birthday tomorrow night- you should drag Pitch out and meet a bunch of us at the Aqualounge downtown.”

I choke.

“The sex club?!” She laughs and a couple of people walking by look over out of curiosity. 

“It’s clothing optional- and it’s not exactly a sex club,” she corrects me. “But the drink specials are amazing, and it might be just the thing to get your boy to change gears a little. He won’t exactly be rushing to get home to his thesis if you’ve got it all on display. And if he is- well then you’ve got more problems than I can help you with.” 

I laugh weakly, and try not to faint at the idea. 

“Word of warning though- there will be some people from the faculty there, so maybe save some of the racier stuff for home. Just thought I’d warn you. Wouldn’t want you running into anyone in flagrante delicto.”

“Oh my god.” I can feel my face flush. 

“It’ll be fun!” She says. “You’re so cute- you’re all flushed. Don’t be embarrassed- we’re all out to have a good time. It’s all off the record.” She winks and laughs again. “Oh shit,” she moans, grabbing my arm and checking my watch. “We have like five minutes to get to methods in research. You coming?” She starts heading down the hall. I hurry to catch up with her and think back on our conversation. 

She’s really not so bad.

I think about the award. Then I think about her plans for a roadtrip across Canada. Then I think of my diminished savings account. Finally, I think of Baz.

Baz who had opened up to me in the dark.

Baz who has barely said a word to me since we’ve been back from Glasgow.

Baz who I haven’t had anything to talk about with since we stopped trying to even the playing field for the undergraduate TA of the year award.

“Hold my tea,” I say, shoving the styrofoam cup into Rachel’s hands as soon as I’ve made up my mind. I almost drop my phone trying to finagle it out of my pocket as we rush around the quad. 

Tomorrow night, could be big news

I glance up at the window of our office as I hit the send button.

\-----

I’m fidgeting as I get into Baz’s car. I didn’t plan this out right.

“Okay, where are we going?” He asks, adjusting his hair in the rear-view mirror. He’s dressed normally for him, slacks and a collared shirt. I’m glad that he didn’t decide to wear a suit- which isn’t too far out of the ordinary for him.

“Uhm, the Aqualounge off of Sussex-”

The car screeches to a halt, kicking snow up around us.

“The sex club?!” He practically shouts. I shrug.

“Actually, it’s clothing optional-”

“Snow, what are we doing going to the Aqualounge?” His fingers are white on the steering wheel. I’d make fun of him for being such a prude but honestly, I don’t feel much differently than he does right now.

“Rachel’s having her party there! I swear to God. And this is better for us- it probably means that we don’t need to even see anything go down. Him just showing up would probably be enough for the ethics board to freak out.”

“We are going to a sex lounge to try and find people we see and work with everyday.” Baz mutters dazedly, finally starting the car back up. At least he’s driving again.

“Definitely a violation of the Watford Student Code of Behaviour,” I agree.

“I don’t think the Student Code of Behaviour was set up to handle a situation like this.”

The rest of the drive to the lounge is quiet. We park nearby and run inside, shoes sinking into the snow. There are people everywhere. Thankfully, most of them have decided to keep their clothing on.

We are way overdressed, Baz in his slacks and me in my sweater. I threw caution to the wind and wore a bathing suit under my trackies though. I glance at Baz and realize that he probably didn’t do the same. I probably should have warned him.

“Uh-” I say, and rub the back of my neck. I can see Rachel and a bunch of girls I vaguely recognize from class over at the bar next to the pool. They’re all in bathing suits.

“I mean, it is clothing optional.” I continue weakly.

“Snow, there is no way I will be getting naked in public. And especially not when on the lookout for professors from my school.” He crosses his arms and frowns. I knew this was going to be a disaster.

“Okay, okay,” I drag him back towards the entrance where the rent-a-lockers are. I swipe my credit card with one hand and work my sweater off with the other. Baz just stares. “Here, look. I wore a bathing suit under my trackies, I’ll just wear that and you can put your trousers in here and undo a couple of buttons on your shirt. We’ll fit right in.”

“I’m supposed to be walking around in just my pants?”

“I mean, there isn’t a huge difference between pants and a bathing suit anyway. If you really want to think about it.” 

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well. You’ll still have your shirt- and everyone here knows you’re kind of uptight so they’ll understand if you decide to keep the trousers I guess.” Baz pauses with his hands on his hips and looks up at me. He looks genuinely surprised.

“You think I’m uptight?”

“What? Baz, you’re like the textbook definition of the word.” I’m so confused.

“I know how to have fun.” He starts thumbing at his belt.

“I know you do. But it’s one thing to know how and another thing entirely to actually do it.”

He frowns at me and then continues with his belt and trousers.

“Here,” he says, shoving them at me in a snarl of fabric. I remember the careful way he folded his clothes when he stayed at my apartment and I frown. He heads off towards the bar as I shake out his trousers and clumsily try to fold them into a neat little square. It takes me a few tries to successfully discard my trackies without tripping and to fit everything into the locker. I grab the key, slipping it into my bathing suit before heading after him.

It takes me awhile to find him in the crowd. He’d gotten a bit of a head start, but he’s obviously trying to show me that he’s able to have fun. Aggressively. 

There’s already a couple of empty shot glasses on the bar in front of him and he’s talking very intently to a girl I vaguely recognize from one of my math courses. 

She’s nodding along intently to whatever he’s saying but I notice her eyes are wandering over the pale expanse of his chest. Christ, I thought he’d undo like his top two buttons, but like this I can see most of the way to his navel. 

It’s not a bad view.

Honestly- this whole thing is not as bad as I thought it would be. I’ve been holding off on the drinks, remembering how I freaked Baz out in Glasgow- the last thing I need is to get wasted again and make him uncomfortable with my word vomit.

So instead I hang back and just watch him. He’s nothing like he usually is in the office. He’s radiant- the girls are pressed close, hanging on to his every word. One particularly brave one keeps reaching out and running her hand along his bicep. I wonder how difficult it is to cut someone’s hand off.

He drinks so much that even I think it’s a bad idea. He’s going to feel like shit in the morning. He gets louder and louder as the night goes on, and watching him becomes less fun and more of a responsibility I feel towards him. It’s weird.

I keep an eye open for Dr. Morris, but I don’t see him. In fact, there are far fewer people from the faculty here than I thought- and it’s exclusively students. Which is probably a good thing- since as it gets later and later the clothing optional rule really comes into play. And while Rachel assured me that this ‘wasn’t exactly’ a sex club, there’s a couple over on one of the wicker chairs I’m certain are-

“Can you swim?” I hear someone ask Baz vaguely. Oh fuck.

“No!” I turn around quickly. “He’s had way too much to drink to think about going anywhere near the pool.”

Baz looks over at me and pouts. Then grins and suddenly-

“Baz!” I shout and jump in after him. I misjudge the distance between us and land practically on him. I grumble and he starts laughing. 

“You wanker!” I shove him, and wipe the water out of my eyes. At least it’s warm. I’m still blinking the chlorine out of my eyes when I feel a tug on my ankle and I lose my balance. I barely have time to panic before he’s surfaced right in my personal space, and then we are pushing against each other, shoving hard. We keep going until I’m breathing heavily and the shoving devolves into pressing our hands against each other, and finally we are left leaning against the edge of the pool to catch our breaths. 

I try to lift myself up and out of the pool, but all of a sudden he’s back in my space, and I can’t find it in myself to pull away.

“Crater,” he murmurs. I feel the wet drag of his finger against the skin of my neck. He’s moving slowly, tracing a pattern. We are pressed together as close as we can possibly be. 

“Now whose drinking is becoming a concern?” I tease, and I feel him huff a laugh against my skin.

“Snow-”

“Wait-,” I tell him, and force myself to pull away. He starts frowning, but I reach out and grab him by the wrist. Then I’m pulling him up and out of the pool, towards the entrance. I glance back and immediately wish I hadn’t. His shirt is translucent and sticking to his chest and shoulders in a way that makes it hard to pay attention to anything else.

When I look back just in time to catch him sweeping his soaked hair back off his forehead I’m done for. I don’t even let myself think before I’m dragging him through the first door I see.

The steam from the sauna is surprising if only because I didn’t even bother reading the sign before tugging him inside.

“Baz-,” I say, tugging him close and fisting my hand in the wet fabric of his shirt.

“Sorry, but this sauna is occupied. Oh, Simon!” I turn around and squint through the steam. Rachel.

She’s not alone. I’m so rattled that it takes me a second to realize-

“You’re not Dr. Morris.” Baz points out for us. 

“What?” Baz rolls his eyes.

“Dr. Morris. We’ve been waiting for him.” He elaborates.

“Why would Dr. Morris come here?” Rachel looks confused.

“Who is Dr. Morris?” The guy asks. He actually might work the front desk at the library. I’m sure I’ve seen him around. And he is definitely not Dr. Morris. 

We ignore him.

“Because you’re having sex with him?” Baz guesses. Shit.

“What?” She and library guy say together.

“Baz, come on.” I turn around and try to tug him back out. Rachel looks pissed. I think library guy is still just confused.

“Okay, first of all it’s absolutely none of your business who I have sex with or don’t. Two-” 

Baz snorts and leans against the wall. 

“Or don’t? Come on, the whole faculty knows you guys have been sleeping together. Why else would you have made the short list for the undergraduate TA of the year award? Your students’ GPAs are a joke compared to mine. And sure, maybe they like you, but Simon’s students are obsessed with him.”

I’m shook. I’ve never heard him call me by my proper name before.

“Maybe leave me out of this?” I plead with him and try tugging him away again.

“I think I’ll just go-,” Library guy pulls away from Rachel, and edges out of the sauna, shutting the door behind him quickly.

“I can’t believe you!” Rachel yells, and tugs her bathing suit top back up. I hadn’t even noticed it was missing. “Where do you get off? I don’t go sticking my nose into your business-”

“My business isn’t usually hurt people’s chances at grad school spots-”

“Oh my god. Why do you even care? The award is a joke, it has nothing to do with anything. Your thesis has already been accepted for publication, as if the grad school committee won’t spend your whole interview getting off on that fact anyway- like what do you want from me?”

“I think-”

“Baz!” I snap. He stops and finally looks at me. I tug his arm as hard as I can and he stumbles towards me. “Happy birthday!” I say as I shove Baz out of the sauna. I don’t dare look at Rachel’s face as we go.

I shove him towards the door as I go and get our stuff from the locker. I join him on the sidewalk and try and catch my bearings.

“It’s cold,” Baz informs me.

I sigh.

“Like, really, really cold.” He continues. 

“We could have stayed inside and kept having a good time if you didn’t get so shit faced that you thought it would be a good idea to attack Rachel. On her birthday.” I explain.

He shrugs.

I’ve never seen him do that before. I decide that I hate it.

“Look, it’s freezing and I think my bits are about to fall off. Let’s just call it a night-.”

“Okay,” he agrees quickly. I glance at him. His eyes are bright and he looks- eager, excited.

“I’ll call you an uber,” I say slowly.

“Don’t bother, I’ll just crash at yours-”

I must make some kind of face, because even drunk as he is he cuts himself off.

I’m embarrassed as hell. And suffering from, like, emotional whiplash. I have no idea what had been on the brink of happening with Baz when I dragged him into the sauna, but all I know is that the feeling died during that awkward confrontation. 

I never thought I’d say it, but I miss regular uptight Baz. Wherever he is. 

“I’m pretty wrecked, it’s been a long week. I’m just gonna crash.” I say. I wish it sounded less like rejection.

“Cool, cool.” He’s thumbing through his phone.

“Don’t say that,” I snap at him.

“What? Cool?” He looks confused. He shouldn’t be, he would never say something like that. Usually.

“Have you ever said something like that in your life? I’m pretty sure people stop saying things like that when they turn twelve.”

He frowns.

“Whatever, I’ll catch you Monday.” Urgh, what does that even mean? He steps off into the parking lot, into the night.

“Where are you going?” His hair is still soaked. It’s going to freeze and he’s going to catch a cold.

“Relax, I’ve called a ride.” He disappears around the corner and I sigh. 

What a waste of a Friday night.

\-----

I’m trying to decide if this morning is going to be more or less awkward than it was coming back from Glasgow. Watching Baz neatly stack a pile of graded papers on his desk I am tentatively hopeful. This is something I’ve seen him do a hundred times.

Back to business then.

I want to say something to him, but I don’t really know what to say.

‘Sorry I went from being all over you to forcing you out into the snow alone. You freak me out when you’re being yourself, but even more when you’re not.’

Urgh. He beats me to it though.

“Look, I’m sorry about the other night,” he says slowly. “I know you and Rachel are friendly. I hope that didn’t change with my behaviour-”

“It’s fine,” I say quickly, “she’s got a short memory for these kinds of things. She’ll get over it like tomorrow.” I fiddle with my pen before continuing, “I just hope you’ll remember this next time you want to get all high and mighty about my drinking habits-”

“Not a word. I think that I’m done for awhile. I wasn’t being very- me.” He fiddles with the edge of the stack of papers. I smile when I notice that he moves them to line up perfectly with the edge of the desk.

“No, you weren’t.” I agree.

We’re silent for awhile. 

As I listen to the steady clack clack of his keyboard I wonder when the sound became soothing instead of annoying. He starts pulling things out of his top desk drawer and I know that any second now he’s going to pull out his day planner and colour code his appointments and deadlines for the week. I’m barely done thinking this when my heart does something funny.

I really shouldn’t order quadruple cheese on my cheeseburgers anymore. 

I rifle trough my bag for my Eno and sit up in time to watch him line up his coloured highlighters. It makes me smile. And it’s the entire reason I let myself speak.

“For what it’s worth- you’re much better when you’re being your uptight self. Stick up your arse and all.”

I pay attention to watch him hear it. The slow smile that breaks out over his face is worth the wait.

\-----

The day of the awards ceremony creeps up on us. I’m surprised when I need to remind Baz that he needs to RSVP to the invitation for the banquet. I’m tempted not to go. It’s going to be a long wait, there’s about fifteen other awards being given out to undergrads. Only the barest hope of five thousand pounds can convince me to meet Baz in the rotunda before the ceremony.

Looking at Baz in his suit, I decide that showing up was the right decision after all.

I start doubting it somewhere around the two hour mark. We’re sitting near the back of the room, but one sharp look from Baz is enough for me to grudgingly put my phone away and pretend to listen to the speeches. He swore on his mother’s grave that there would be food, but it looks like they’re saving it until all the awards are given out.

After what seems like forever they finally call out our award. There’s polite clapping as the short list of nominees are read, and Baz squeezes my shoulder in a way that’s surprisingly friendly when my name is called.

I watch him while the presenters fiddle with the recipient card. 

He deserves this.

I can barely control my confusion when they award it to Jeanie, the TA from the psychology department. Her thesis is insane, something about altering the natural sleep/wake cycles of plants, but she’s known for being a kind of scattered and distant TA. One of my students said that his roommate once emailed her during the first week of class asking for a private meeting and she replied to him two days before the final exam.

Honestly, this award should have been mine. It should have been Baz’s. I get up and walk out of the ballroom. I get a few pats on the back as I leave, but I don’t stay to talk to anyone. I have no idea where I’m going.

I run into Rachel outside the washrooms.

"Urgh I’m not in the mood right now.” She stops me before I can even open my mouth. “I’ve had it up to here with you and Basilton. Honestly he’s such a prick, he’s on my last nerve. I’m never going to do another favour for him as long as he lives.”

"What do you mean? What did you do to him?” I’m immediately up in her business.

"Me? I didn't do anything! He’s the one who wants shit from me all the time. He tracked me down at the beginning of the year, right before term started and made me switch offices with him. He was pretty desperate."

"He wanted you to switch offices with him?” I’m slow on the uptake.

"Yeah. Did you honestly never wonder why the only two undergraduate TAs in the astronomy department don't share an office? Or why he's always invigilating the intro to astronomy midterms and exams? Those were my conditions. Honestly, I would have traded just to get my own private office, but he seemed keen enough that he didn't even try arguing when I told him he'd have to invigilate all my midterms and exams for the inconvenience."

My head is buzzing. It only gets worse as she keeps talking.

"You took advantage of him," I sound angry and it's a surprise even to myself. She just laughs.

"Of course I took advantage. Anyone would have. Sorry I know you two are together, but I hate that guy. I would have considered turning down his offer just to piss him off, but I couldn't pass up having my own office."

It's true. At the beginning of the year I would have jumped at any opportunity to make Baz angry. And now-

Well now I don’t know what I feel. Or I’m pretty sure I do, but it’s freaking me out enough that I’m trying to avoid it.

“Anyway, bad luck about the award and all, I was rooting for you.” She claps me on the shoulder and disappears around the corner towards the banquet hall. 

\-----

Baz finds me sitting outside against the statue of the horse lady in front of the library. She has a name, but no one can ever remember it and the plaque in the front has been worn away with age. 

“Well, that was a complete bust.” He sighs and sits down next to me, loosening his tie. I watch his hands in the moonlight and try really hard not to freak out. Our shoulders touch and even through four layers of clothing it makes me feel warm inside.

“Where did you go? I was waiting for you in there. I thought for sure you’d be back when they started serving the food.”

“I ran into Rachel,”

“Urgh. Let’s not talk about it. I’m over her.”

“She said the weirdest thing-” His eyes narrow but he doesn’t say anything. We just stare at each other in the dark until I find it in myself to continue. “Apparently we were supposed to share an office. Her and I. Because we TA for the same department.”

Baz lets out a breath and tilts his head back against the stone base of the statue. 

“Yeah.” He finally admits.

“I never really thought about it before. Why you were assigned to invigilate the first-year astronomy midterms and exams with me.” He lets out a huff of air I know is as close as he’ll let himself get to laughing. 

“You’re exceedingly thick, Snow.” It comes out fond. I wrap my arms around myself. I can see the little wisps of his breath in the cold air. He’s got some snow smeared on his suit trousers. 

“Why did you do it?” He turns to me and stares. We’re so close I can count his eyelashes. The tip of his nose is rosy, and I have the insane urge to rub my own against it to feel how cold it is. 

“You know why.” He leans back a bit and squints at me. It’s tempting to look away, but I stare right back. I’ve seen this look before. It’s the same one he gives me when I’ve surprised him. When I’ve said something clever.

“Try not to freak out,” he whispers, and then we are kissing.

My first thought is that it’s all wrong. My second thought is that it’s so so warm. My third thought is that I shouldn’t be thinking about anything at all. 

He’s got his hands on my face, and they’re warm where they’re pressing into my cheeks. For someone who doesn’t date, he’s pretty good at this.

I tilt my head for a better angle and slide my tongue along his lower lip. I’m asking for trouble, and I get it. My hands slip into the jacket of his suit and seek out the warmth of his body.

It feels- momentous. Earth-shattering. Inevitable. 

I lose track of time as we lean against the statue and kiss for what seems like forever. Surely time has never moved more slowly. 

I pull back only to press our faces together again immediately.

“Help me,” I murmur against the edge of his cheekbone, “I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

“It’s alright,” he moves his thumb down to brush against my neck. I know he’s tracing the pattern of moles there. Crater, he’d said. 

“How are you so okay with this? You hate me.” I mumble, even as I drag him closer, trying to eliminate all the space between us. 

“No- I’ve been hoping for this for a long time now.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, and my eyes close. My throat is not fine. I’m all choked up and I haven’t caught up with why yet. 

“Why have you been so weird since Glasgow? I thought you were back to hating me- or just not caring.” 

“I couldn’t figure out what you wanted, you kept saying all these things that made me think that maybe I had a chance- but then you’d pull away before anything could happen.” I snort. As if someone like Baz would ever have to worry about whether or not he had a chance. 

He’s actually insane.

I pull his face back to mine again, but he draws back far too soon and smiles crookedly.

“I think in the interest of full disclosure I should probably tell you that I never cared at all about the bloody award.”

This surprises me.

“Excuse me?!” My voice is shrill and a little breathless. “We did all this planning and scheming to improve our chances. We went on a mini break-”

“Yeah. I mean, I cared about the award insofar as it was a way for us to spend time together without me having to force you to put up with me. I’ve had ulterior motives the whole time.” He slides his thumb across my lower lip and I’m done.

I fist my hands in the collar of his shirt and drag him as close as I can. He doesn’t resist. 

\-----

In bed, I lie awake and think about how I shouldn’t be thinking about it. But I do nothing else. 

The cold has somehow seeped into my room and into my bed as I lie awake and think about how warm Baz’s hands were on me. How he cradled my head in his hands like he wanted this. I think about how I wanted it too.

It would have been out of the realm of possibility even a few months ago, but now…

I try to reconcile the Baz who kissed me tonight with the Baz that invigilates the first-year astronomy courses with me. The one that begged Rachel to switch offices with the one that sneers at me from across the room twenty hours a week. They cannot possibly be the same person.

But they are. He is.

I tell myself to fall asleep before I can talk myself out of it.

\-----

By the next morning I’ve cycled back around to freaking out.

I take the coward’s way out. I can’t actually avoid going into the office, it’s the week before winter midterms after all, but I put it off as long as I can. By the time I actually drag myself up the last flight of stairs towards the tower, it’s fifteen minutes into Baz’s open office hours and forty-five minutes until mine begin. I open the door to the office cautiously. The lights are off, and the blinds are closed. I’m surprised to find the room completely empty but then-

“Finally,” Baz hisses at me from where he’s sitting on the little black sofa in the corner. This is almost more surprising than anything else that’s happened in the past day. We never use the couch. Our first and only act of cooperation in this office was trying to get rid of it on the very first day we were here, until we found out that it wouldn’t even fit through the door. Not to mention down the spiral staircase of the tower.

“Baz? Why is it so dark in here? Where are the students?” He’s never had no one show up during office hours before. He’s scary and demanding, but the students have a love/hate relationship with him. They always hate him on a personal level, but soon they learn to love him for the way he pushes them into the material. They love him for what that does to their GPAs.

“I cancelled my office hours. And yours too.” I stand in the doorway in shock. He starts waving his hands at me, and I take that as my cue to close the door behind me and start taking my coat and boots off.

“Uhm, what? It’s the week before midterms.” I try not to think about all the aggrieved emails I’m going to get. The students are going to be so pissed. Then I try not to think about what a waste of time it was to get up in the first place. I could have stayed home in bed, hiding under the covers. 

“Yes, so get ready to answer a hundred angry emails.” The corner of his mouth twitches. Probably because he knows his students are too afraid of him to send any emails, let alone ones expressing anything other than worshipful reverence. My students, on the other hand, have nothing against giving me a piece of their minds. I pinch the bridge of my nose as I feel a headache coming on.

“Stop reading my mind,” I snap at him. “What is this? Some kind of plot?” I make my way slowly towards him.

“Yes, now come here.” I cautiously get into touching range. He moves before I’ve decided how close to get. His grip on my wrist is strong and a little cold. He yanks me so suddenly I fall to the couch in a sprawl. We are entirely too close. 

“Baz-” Is all I manage before he pulls my face to his. 

Oh.

I pull back, with more reluctance than I’m willing to admit to myself.

“Don’t tell me you cancelled office hours so we could snog here instead,” I plead. He grins in a way that is somehow completely alien but also entirely Baz.

“Does that sound like something I’d do? The school doesn’t pay me to sit around on my arse snogging my half-wit office mate.”

I kiss him first this time.

"Baz." The next words between us are an intent whisper. I have no idea what time it is. He opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. His mouth is pouty, and his lips are slightly swollen. I’ve freed his hair from it’s little bun and I can’t stop running my fingers through it. He’s never looked prettier. 

"I just want to warn you," I start, and a crease begins forming at the top of his nose as he frowns. I want more than anything to reach up and smooth it away. "I’m pretty sure what I am about to do is going to violate the hell out of the Watford Student Code of Behaviour."

It takes him a second before he starts laughing. I savour the sound until it melts away into a groan as I flaunt my blatant disregard for the student code of behaviour. 

For the first time, I don’t think he minds one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> The Oasis Aqualounge is a real place and years ago my uni thought it would be the perfect place to host a student mixer.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed.


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